


Steering Along (This Act of Translation)

by summerstorm



Category: Better Off Ted
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, Established Relationship, F/F, Phobias, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-07
Updated: 2011-09-07
Packaged: 2017-10-23 12:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/250430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerstorm/pseuds/summerstorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Linda's just about gotten to her cubicle when Veronica joins her and says she's thinking about getting her nipple pierced.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steering Along (This Act of Translation)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for kink-bingo, 'piercings/needleplay.'

Linda's just about gotten to her cubicle when Veronica joins her and says she's thinking about getting her nipple pierced. Right there in hearing range of all of Linda's co-workers. (It hardly matters that they're also Veronica's employees.)

"Are you doing this for our anniversary?" Linda says. "Because I really would be okay with a nice, tangible, for-me gift." Quickly, because it's tacky to say it but hey, worth a shot: "Like a new photographic printer or something."

It goes right over Veronica's head. "What anniversary?" she asks vaguely, stopping at the opening to Linda's cubicle. "No. This is for my birthday. I am giving myself the greatest gift anyone could ever give me: a fear-free life."

"I thought you already had one of those," Linda says, leaning over her chair to grab a stapler from her desk and checking out of the conversation a little. Otherwise she'd dwell on the fact that nothing she could pick out for Veronica will ever earn the title of best gift ever, and that is just not good for anyone. Linda decides to see it as less pressure instead of a personal offense. It's a choice of feelings she's slowly learned to succeed at making when it comes to Veronica, who will not let you believe any lies. Not if they inflate your ego. Unless you're higher up on the Veridian food chain, in which case you're good to go.

"Think about it: I have had a phobia of needles since I was a little girl," Veronica says. "I never thought it would be an issue in my line of work until I walked in on Lem testing our new face-lifting laser on Phil last week."

"There were needles in that? We're releasing it as a laser. If there are needles involved we need to repackage it before the presentation."

"No," Veronica says, rolling her eyes. "No, there were no needles. The laser looked like— never mind. It turns out, Linda, all phobias are a problem. A big one. If you have a phobia, you are not invincible. I pushed it down and I pushed it down and yet there it was last week, rearing its ugly head."

Linda wonders if this was diagnosed or if Veronica's just not willing to admit there are things she's afraid of. That would make her human. Linda pictures Veronica shuddering at the thought and smiles. Then, she sits down and turns the chair to face Veronica. "Is this because I have one?"

"Because you have a what?" Veronica says, leaning against Linda's desk carefully, like she might catch something. Funny coming from a woman who makes a habit of having sex on office desks.

"A piercing," Linda says. Veronica tilts her head up, as if hoping for divine inspiration to bring a reminder of this fact to her. "In my navel? How can you have missed it? I wear a barbell there every other week."

"Oh," Veronica finally says. "I thought that was a birth defect."

That one's harder to ignore. "Hey, don't knock it. Navel piercings used to be all the rage."

"As was that phrase." Veronica's pocket vibrates. "I have a meeting," she says, reaching in to calm her phone. "We'll talk about this later."

Linda abstains from asking if she has a say in that conversation. She already knows 'we' was a figure of speech.

//

Being in a relationship with Veronica has done some bizarre things to Linda's habits. Among other things, she works late on days she knows Veronica will be working even later, waiting for the right moment to give Veronica an excuse for a half-hour break.

Linda's dubious on whether sex makes Veronica less tired, but she does look relaxed afterwards.

"Thank you," Veronica says as she fixes her hair, because one of their compromises when they started dating was that Veronica would try to be nicer and pay more attention to Linda's feelings. As it stands, Veronica's mostly polite when she doesn't need to be. Linda finds it endearing.

"Leave your hair down," Linda suggests. She's dressed already — she didn't really _un_ dress — so she's just watching Veronica. "Everyone who'd see you on the way out has already left."

"I don't dress for 'everyone who'd see me,'" Veronica lies, completely deadpan, all the while looking at her reflection in the window. She turns to Linda when her bun is fastened.

Linda holds back a laugh, but smiles openly. "Are you kicking me out?"

"Of course I am," Veronica says. She actually looks confused that Linda could think it was anything else.

"Of course you are," Linda sighs. "Are you coming over to my place later?"

Veronica thinks it over, opens her drawer, and flings a couple of shiny metal things at Linda. Linda catches them easily. "Why don't you go to mine tonight?"

Linda looks at the keys in her hand and back at Veronica. "Is this—" She's not sure how to ask. _Is this a big gesture I'm missing?_ seems a little on the nose.

"I'll take the keys back later," Veronica says.

"Ah," says Linda.

//

The next day at work, Linda's called into Veronica's office for an "urgent" matter.

There is nothing urgent about the way Veronica's going over paperwork at her desk when Linda comes in.

"You needed something?" Linda prompts.

"Yes," Veronica says, looking up at Linda and putting down her pen. "When _is_ our anniversary?"

It takes Linda a moment to remember she mentioned it yesterday. She closes the door behind herself. "Well," she begins.

"It will be six months, I know that, but it's slipping my mind _when_."

"Well, that's something you should remember." It comes out with a light doubtful inflection. Damn it.

"You don't know either, do you?" Veronica says. _That_ doesn't sound even a bit like a question. The universe is just cruel to Linda sometimes.

"I know," Linda says. Her bravado sounds fake even to her. "Why wouldn't I know? It's not like we haven't picked what we're celebrating."

"Have we?"

"Did we?" Linda says, trying to recall that conversation. She's pretty sure they never had it.

Veronica nods slowly. "That explains why you didn't add it to my calendar."

"I'm not your assistant," Linda says, feeling a little offended.

"What does that have to do with anything?" says Veronica. "So we should pick a day. What would you like to celebrate?"

Linda goes into defensive mode. "Me? What do you want to celebrate? When do you think we started dating?"

"There is a series of moments," Veronica says. "As I assume you remember, it wasn't straightforward. There was that time you kissed me to test those breath mints that changed flavor from mouth to mouth."

"That wasn't a real kiss," Linda points out.

Veronica goes on as if she hasn't heard anything. "Then the time we pretended to be on a date. And the time we slept together immediately afterwards because you got drunk on expensive champagne and kept throwing yourself at me."

"Hey," Linda says, then decides it's not a point worth arguing.

"That time we went out for drinks and you kissed me in the car when you drove me home, like a fifteen-year-old boy."

"That was actually our first date," Linda says.

"No, it wasn't," Veronica says, no room for arguing. Linda leaves it because, okay, maybe Linda wasn't exactly forthcoming about the fact that she was asking Veronica out _out_. "Oh, the time you 'took one for the team'—" Veronica gives Linda a pointed look, retroactively calling her out on that. Whatever, there was a point to it. "—and went down on me when my libido got high on fumes from Phil and Lem's pollen neutralizer. And the time we both got high." A pause. "On weed." As if she needed to explain that.

"How about we pick a time we had a date, we both knew it was a date, and we kissed or had sex without either one of us being either drunk or high?"

Veronica looks at Linda, trying to think of something. And keeps looking at Linda.

"Oh," Linda realizes, "seriously? How often do you think I drink?"

"I haven't ruled out daily."

Linda takes a deep breath and reminds herself that Veronica called her in because she actually listened yesterday when Linda was barely even listening to herself.

Veronica is not a terrible girlfriend. She's just self-absorbed. Linda knew this going in.

"How about next Sunday?" Linda suggests.

"So our six-month anniversary would be six months from now," Veronica says. "I like it."

"No, our six-month anniversary would be next Sunday," says Linda.

"That makes no sense."

Linda cocks her head and smiles a little. "It would if you remembered the 18th was the day you said, 'I like this. We should keep doing this,' and I said, 'Uh—sure. Okay.'"

"Linda Zwordling, always so eloquent," Veronica says, highlighting the one part of what Linda just said that makes Linda look bad. "Does this mean I have to get my nipple pierced before that?"

Linda frowns, taken aback by the change of subject. "Weren't you doing that for your birthday?"

"You can't just pencil 'facing your fears' into a schedule," Veronica says defiantly, like that in any way answers Linda's question.

"Then this changes nothing," says Linda, nodding slowly and enunciating.

Veronica rolls her eyes and goes back to her paperwork.

"Should I just—"

Veronica looks up. "Oh. Yes, you are dismissed."

Linda shakes her head and leaves the door open on the way out. She knows it will bother the intern Veronica yells at to close it more than it will offend Veronica, but she needs a dose of retaliation every now and then or she is certain she will lose it.

//

Veronica must change her mind at some point throughout the day, because that night after dinner — which Linda made at Veronica's, because she has appliances that do everything for you and that is about the only way Linda can put together a meal — she announces she's found a place that meets her hygiene standards and she has an appointment on Friday.

"Why do you have to pierce—" Linda gestures vaguely at Veronica's chest area. "—that? Why don't you pick some place less sensitive? Like — I don't know, an eyeball?"

"Is that a thing people do?" Veronica says with a small frown, heading over to a cupboard door and uncovering a mirror. She stands in front of it and stretches the lids of her right eye open with careful, manicured fingernails. "Wouldn't it get in the way of—seeing?"

Linda raises her eyebrows; it's pointless because Veronica's not looking at her and as far as Linda knows, the mirror is a normal mirror, but she knows she's doing it and that is enough. "I'm sure nobody's rejected the idea on those grounds before."

"Maybe I should get a tattoo instead," Veronica says. Linda laughs, and Veronica ignores her. At least she's not holding her eye open anymore. "What do you think?"

"I'd feel bad for the tattoo artist."

Veronica gives her an appraising look. "I could take credit for this new meanness of yours."

"No you couldn't," Linda says warmly. She's had a mean streak in her for as long as Veronica claims to have had aichmophobia. (Linda looked it up in case she had to come up with a warning for the face-lifting laser. Turns out 'looks like [a needle]' was kind of a stretch on Veronica's part.)

"I wonder if that could be profitable," Veronica muses. "Cutthroat lessons. I wouldn't give them, of course; I don't have that kind of time. But I could train someone." She closes the cupboard with a snap of the latch. "Anyway. Tattoos."

"I have one of those too," Linda says. Veronica frowns at her. "On my ankle. Don't tell me you thought I had a birthmark shaped like an anchor. A _multicolor_ anchor."

Veronica presses her lips together into a near pout. If Linda didn't know better, she'd think Veronica was angry, but her eyes are softer and Linda can recognize the beginning of a smile in the corners of Veronica's mouth. It's strange, noticing these things. Then again, Linda's sitting at a table in Veronica's kitchen, eating Veronica's food, so she guesses they've reached a level of familiarity where you should be able to recognize the other person's moods regardless of their ability to hide them.

"Anyway," Veronica says, making it very clear she's done listening to Linda yap about her tattoo, "you should be here to let them in."

"I am _not your assistant_ ," Linda reminds her, which doesn't do any good. "And I'm sorry, what did you just say?"

"I hired a crew," Veronica explains. "I'm having them bring their stuff over."

"But—"

Veronica holds up a finger. "Now. We have forty-two minutes to have sex before I go to sleep."

Linda shakes her head. "Your schedule is so weird."

"My schedule is a normal schedule," Veronica points out.

"The way you _follow_ it is—" Linda begins, and Veronica takes off her pants. "Never mind."

//

Linda gets up early so she can greet Veronica with the sweet smell of pancakes and, "Did you never get shots as a kid?"

"Of course I did," Veronica says, "what do you think I am, a sponge? I was heavily anesthetized."

"So, exactly like a—" Linda's not comparing Veronica to a sponge before either one of them has had any coffee. "Fine."

"Are we playing the questions game?" Veronica says, and goes on without giving Linda a chance to answer. "How does it feel?" She sits down at the table with a cloth napkin and actual cutlery. Linda doesn't approve of cutlery at breakfast. It takes the fun out of it. She'll let Veronica use it, but she will not encourage it by setting any out on the table.

"How does what feel? Eating pancakes with your bare hands? It feels _good_ , Veronica. You should try it."

"Don't be disgusting," Veronica says dismissively. "Your piercing. How does it feel? Did it hurt when you got it? Talk to me." It's amazing how businesslike she can make her voice sound even when she's presumably trying to be comforted in some way.

"I don't remember, I was drunk," Linda says. Veronica shoots her a Look. "No, okay, I do remember, but I was kind of numb. It was a little sore for a day or two but it hasn't bothered me since. And there's something really awesome and intimate about letting someone handle a piece of jewelry that literally goes under your skin."

"What if they rip it off? Ew," Veronica says plainly, and resumes eating.

"That's why, when it's good, it's awesome and intimate instead of okay and vaguely scary."

Veronica's eyebrow raises slightly; Linda hopes Veronica's thinking about the few times she's seen Linda wear her piercing — because she has, and surely she must remember if she makes a little bit of an effort — and not about whatever Veridian project she's planning to inflict on Ted next.

"Nipple piercings are supposed to take a lot longer to heal, though."

Veronica's face hardens again. "I don't like the turn this conversation has taken. Pass the syrup."

//

Veronica wasn't kidding when she said she hired a crew. When Linda opens the door, she counts six people coming in. Half of them leave after setting up a couple of tables in the living room, and Linda retires to Veronica's office, where she considers checking in on work for about two seconds before checking her e-mail and getting lost in a vortex of videos of cute animals being cute.

Veronica hired these people. Linda assumes she knew what she was doing.

She comes out when she hears the front door slam shut. Veronica's heels clacker through to the kitchen, so Linda heads out in the same direction and has to make a conscious effort not to stare at the scene before her eyes. Linda thought they'd just bring one person and the basics, but half the shop is strewn between Veronica's kitchen and living room.

They brought a jewelry _sterilizer_.

Also, Veronica's only wearing a bra with her pencil skirt.

Linda takes a deep breath. "You couldn't just go to the shop?" she says. So it sounds like she's picking up an already on-going conversation, so what. It did start last night. Veronica just didn't give it a chance to be finished.

"I am an extremely busy person, Linda," says Veronica. "This was closer."

To Veridian, Linda supplies in her head.

"You can go now," Veronica tells her after appraising the makeshift piercing station in her living room. Linda hopes Veronica included 'cleaning up' in whatever contract she drew up for the crew. (There's no way Veronica hired them without a written statement. Veronica likes to account for everything that could go wrong and make sure her ass is covered. A consequence of working at Veridian for too long, Linda ventures a little meanly.)

(Oh, god, this could be where Linda's headed. She is not cut out to be a Veronica. She'd forget half the clauses. She's never been good at screwing others over to make sure they didn't screw _her_ over. Is it too late to start now?

Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Okay, that's better.)

"You don't want me to stay?" Linda asks. It comes out more defensive than she meant it. It's just, she's been in this position before. She has no problem with needles. If Linda had needle phobia and decided to get any part of her body pierced in an attempt to overcome it, she'd want her girlfriend around for support and yelling at and stuff.

Well, maybe she wouldn't want her current girlfriend around. But Veronica's not really the supportive type. She's more the type to tell you how unreasonable your complaints are and why over the sound of your screams.

"You have work to do," says Veronica. "You're already behind on it."

Linda gapes. "You told me to stay here!"

Veronica tilts her head, and her eyes blink irregularly a few times. It should be creepy. It kind of is creepy.

But Linda's pretty sure Veronica's trying to let her know something without actually saying it, so she ignores the creepiness and focuses on saying, very clearly, "What?"

A second goes by, and then Veronica seems to find her words. "You could have more work."

"Ah," Linda says tonelessly, cocking her head. Veronica may think it's particularly nice to lighten someone's workload when you ask them to do something like they're your assistant — not even your girlfriend, your _assistant_ — but it's really not. It's a basic courtesy.

"Look," Veronica says, and looks around. The two people drinking water at the kitchen island immediately fix their gazes elsewhere. Veronica's eyes narrow, and then she leads Linda into the master bedroom. "I'm sorry."

Linda's not even sure what her face does at that. It must convey her confusion, at least, that her ability to control her face just short-circuited. "For what?" she blurts.

"Huh," says Veronica. "Wasn't there something I was supposed to feel sorry for?"

Linda throws her hands in the air. "Really?"

"I'm under a lot of stress," Veronica says.

"From what?"

Veronica shrugs like she's about to give Linda a standard answer, and in fact she begins, "Work," but then her shoulders slump a little — so little that she's still standing straight by any sane person's standards, but a _little_ — and she says: "That's a lie. I'm under stress from letting strangers into my house. The impeding doom of a fear that's been a part of me for years. I am heavily medicated—"

"It doesn't look like it," Linda points out.

"I control my body; my body does not control me," Veronica says firmly, like that closes up that tangent. "I am medicated enough to get through this and remember it afterwards. That's stressful. The last thing I need is some kind of silly post-traumatic disorder so I can feel guilty about feeling guilty for not facing a prior problem."

"I thought one of the points of diagnosing someone with a disorder was so they would stop blaming themselves."

"Linda," Veronica says, and puts her hands on Linda's shoulders. "Focus. I am about to be poked and stabbed in a very sensitive place with a needle." Linda refrains from pointing out piercing hardly counts as stabbing. "I seem to have developed a bizarre habit of allowing people into my house when I am not there, and storing things I don't eat in my fridge. And I am about to be poked and stabbed in a very sensitive place with a needle."

"You already said—"

"It's an alarming situation." Veronica speaks over her. "Please try to understand." She lets go of Linda's arms and breathes in deep, her chest rising with it.

Linda forces herself to look up. "Cheer up. Half of that stuff just means you're not dying alone anymore."

Veronica drops herself on her bed with a bit of a flourish. "But what if I _want_ to die alone? What then? Am I corrupted now? Is there too much overlap between my life and — feelings?" She grimaces at the word.

"If there's too much overlap there, my life must have drowned in feelings by now."

"It has," Veronica says, in the same sober tone you'd use to announce a person's death.

"Well, yours clearly hasn't," Linda says resignedly, and sits down next to Veronica. "So you shouldn't worry too much. Think of—" _Me_ , she wants to say, but it seems too bold. She gestures vaguely instead. "— _this_ as a project. Wanting someone around and making them comfortable — that's just you being good at that project."

"I am good at all my projects," Veronica agrees.

Linda nods slowly. "Exactly."

There's a stretch of silence in which Veronica stares, in turns, at the floor, Linda's thighs, the headboard, Linda's face, and a print on the wall. Then, she stands up abruptly and says, "Let's go get stabbed."

"It's really not—"

"Not you, you should still leave," Veronica says, but her tone is softer than when she dismissed Linda earlier. Linda gets it, though; if Veronica doesn't go through this on her own, she probably won't feel like she's succeeded in it.

"Fine," says Linda. They go back out to the living room, where Linda grabs her bag and tries not to stare at the array of jewelry decorating the coffee table.

She heads for the door, looking back one more time before Veronica's out of her range of vision.

"You sure you don't need me to hold your hand?" she says, voice high with amusement. She's confident she's not being an asshole; she knows Veronica would prefer to be treated this way than outright comforted. No matter how deep her fear of needles runs.

Veronica presses her lips together. "A hundred percent sure." Linda raises an eyebrow. "Two hundred."

Linda rolls her eyes and leaves Veronica alone.

//

Veronica doesn't call her over the rest of the day, and Linda doesn't push it because — well, because everyone tells her not to. The idea of Linda coming over to Veronica's house uninvited seems to terrify Phil and Lem, and Ted just gives Linda an odd look and says, "I don't want to get blamed for anything later — but Veronica means it when she says she likes her space."

So Linda gives Veronica some room, and doesn't even get to ask about how things went until the next day at work, at which point Veronica gives her a different odd look and replies, "I don't discuss my private business during work hours."

"You're kidding, right?" Linda asks, and is about to start an argument when Veronica lifts a finger and leans over her desk. Linda takes a few steps towards her, which seems to suffice.

"Later," Veronica whispers, blatantly trying to be seductive, and the horrible part, the truly, really horrible part, is that it sends a shiver down Linda's spine.

Linda nods shakily and lets herself out.

//

'Later' actually turns out to mean later; Veronica shows up on Linda's doorstep two hours after Linda leaves work, her hair loose on her shoulders, still contracted into strange shapes like it was only let out of Veronica's bun seconds ago. Linda lets her in, and Veronica makes the usual couple of disparaging comments about Linda's furniture and sits down on the couch. She looks tired, for Veronica.

"You want some tea?" Linda offers, but Veronica just pats the space next to her on the couch until Linda gets the hint and sits next to her.

"So I'm still alive," Veronica says.

Linda frowns. "I can see that."

"My breasts are still alive," Veronica adds, and puts a hand on Linda's thigh.

"Okay?"

Veronica laughs, and it's kind of weird how not unnatural it sounds. Maybe she really was stressed out. Maybe she really is tired now, because it's the only explanation Linda can come up with for this.

"I predict my brain will shut down in about an hour. We should have sex before I fall asleep."

"Oh," Linda says, and swallows. "We don't have to do that if you're that tired," she adds, but Veronica's already kissing her, and it seems rude to push her back.

Most of their clothes stay on, and Linda doesn't really think to question it. Veronica's wearing a cotton dress she must have changed into after work, something comfortable enough to sleep in, and her laziness is kind of contagious.

//

Then it's Sunday, and Linda's in Veronica's bed, and she only knows Veronica's wearing a nipple ring at all because she can see the outline of it through Veronica's satin bra. Veronica's idea of celebrating a six-month anniversary is apparently marathon morning sex, though, so Linda's a little too distracted to ask.

They make it out of bed for lunch a few hours after lunchtime. It seems a little inappropriate to ask about possible infections while they're eating, too, so Linda—

—actually, Linda says screw it and asks.

"I haven't had any problems," Veronica says. "Why would you think that?"

"I haven't seen it yet."

"Oh." Veronica genuinely sounds like she hadn't noticed. "Well, I just thought I'd wait until I got used to it."

" _Why_?"

Veronica shrugs. "You can't expect an audience to buy your act if you don't buy it yourself."

"I don't think this metaphor applies here," Linda says. "You're not selling anything. And I'm not an audience; we're _dating_."

"Maybe later," Veronica says, digging into her salad.

Linda doesn't push it because, for maybe the first time since they met, Veronica sounded uncertain.

//

They have dinner that night at a small restaurant two blocks away from Linda's apartment. Linda picks it out because a) she knows the owner, b) at big restaurants there is an irritatingly high likelihood someone will recognize Veronica and try to sell her an idea or a company or a cat, c) she's on a quest to make Veronica appreciate cozier styles of interior decoration, and d) Linda's paying and it's a nice place without being way out of her budget. Veronica doesn't even look like she hates the look of the place when they get there, which Linda counts as a win, and she doesn't sit stiffly straight all night, which Linda also counts as a win.

After thirty minutes or so, they shift into a sweet rhythm of conversation in which Veronica not only is but _sounds_ honest. That's probably Linda's favorite part of taking Veronica out for dinner at restaurants Veronica's never planning to go back to: Veronica doesn't spend the whole trying to impress other people.

Veronica agrees to sleep at Linda's even though she has to work in the morning, which makes Linda glad she never returned the suit Veronica left in her closet this one time last month. They have ice cream and watch a movie — Veronica leaves to take a shower halfway through, and she comes back out in a towel and says it's not worth getting dressed if she's just going to get in bed now. She heads into Linda's room while Linda takes out the DVD and switches things off.

When Linda walks into her room, Veronica's standing in front of the full-body mirror next to Linda's closet, the upper edge of her towel pushed down to her hips.

"It looks good," Linda says, leaning against the doorway.

"Doesn't it?" Veronica says proudly. "It's a real ruby."

Linda snorts. "Of course." She really couldn't care less about the ruby. She steps closer, until she's standing beside her closet. A glint of metal catches her eye from the crystal bowl on top of her dresser. "I never gave you back your keys."

Veronica watches her chest in the mirror. The ring gleams as she turns it over with her fingers, her nipple hardening and softening almost imperceptibly at the tugs.

The silence stretches on, and suddenly the situation feels like a serious moment, a moment with a capital M, and Linda's incredibly weirded out that it's happening in front of a mirror while Veronica's naked from the waist up.

"That's okay," Veronica says distractedly. "You can keep them."


End file.
